Life Amidst Death
by teeceecee
Summary: Please God, she prayed fervently. Kenna had never wished for such a thing before, for the death and possible eviction of newborn life. A newborn life that may be growing in her. Please, she implored. Not now. Not when the baby has no chance of survival.
1. Of Secrets and Reveals

**Hello, all! This is the first time I have contributed to the Reign fandom, which surprised me since I really did love the show and was even obsessively watching it on couchtuner at one point. Anyway, this will be a Bash/Kenna centric ship since they are my favorite couple in this show (next to Mary and Francis, of course) and I hope I did them justice. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p>It had all started after the portcullis went down with a jarring boom.<p>

Closing the gates, Mary had not only left Francis out on his own, but seemed to have invited the plague in as the first wave of sickness arrived barely three days after the new King's departure.

The new Queen, already weary with her new duties stood in front of the court, where all the servants and residing noblemen were waiting. Immaculate in a demure black gown, Sebastian had only watched with an aloof sort of detachment, the type of isolation that could only be contributed to the twisting and turning of new events. Francis was gone, accompanying Lola who had revealed that she had been expecting his child all along; Henry was dead and now Mary, his sweet sister-in-law with whom he shared the understanding of burdening responsibilities would have to manage France in her husband's absence.

The Queen of Scots had given a moving speech, about the arrival of the plague and how new measures were made to prevent the spreading of the Black Death.

But it was in vain.

Bash could only watch helplessly as bodies and more bodies were heaved away, stored in a separate room far from the castle, like meat from cattle that had already gone bad. He had tried to help, to provide the guards with extra man power but Kenna was having none of it. She claimed that he was too important to be carrying bodies and his assistance might be needed in the court since Francis had practically vacated the throne.

Kenna...she would have a fit if she knew that he had been out at night, secretly helping the other guards bury the dead whilst ignoring their consistent reprovals.

He would have her know that he was not some strait-laced, invulnerable royal. He was just Sebastian, bastard son of King Henry the Second with nothing but a made up title to call his own. He was dispensable; even Catherine had told him so when he had been growing up, a young wide eyed little boy, new to the ways of court and the Queen's specific brand of emotional poisoning.

That's why he didn't care. He didn't care and all he wanted to do was help.

"Sebastian, don't you think Lady Kenna would skin you alive if she knew that you were here?" one of the guards, a lanky man by the name of Hamish said.

Bash shook out his long bangs, ignoring a drop of sweat that trickled from his forehead and landed on his nose. He huffed, continuing to shovel the frozen ground, spring not quite arriving to thaw out the soil.

"She would, but I can't help it."

"You should go back to her," another guard spoke. This one had long brown hair tied into a ponytail and rough features that gave away his Saxon heritage. "My lord, you have a young wife to take care of, surely you would not want to contract the plague."

"I don't," Bash admitted, jamming his boot onto the head of the shovel as he attempted to toss the dirt. "But I can't stand around and do nothing, especially if all of you men are sacrificing yourself to at least give the dead a dignified burial."

"We have no family," Hamish answered, gritting his teeth as he shoveled the soil. "And we volunteered to do this because no one else would."

Setting down the shovel, Sebastian glared at the younger man through ice-green eyes. "And now I'm helping, so accept it and let's finish this before dawn arrives."

The guards said no more, afraid of angering the young lord.

They finished digging a sizable pit for the three bodies, each of the men leaning on their tools to catch their breath.

Bash was the first one to move, gripping the body of a young girl and laying her down in the dirt with deliberate gentleness. The two men followed, each one gripping the rest of the bodies as they lowered the dead into their final resting place. Tossing the shoveled dirt back into the hole, Bash was more than grateful that they were finally done.

"C'mon lads, back to the kitchen to wash our hands," Hamish stated, leading them back into the castle.

Bash followed, silent and lost in his own thoughts. He concentrated on the crisp ground, thinking about his brother and if Francis was well. He prayed that he was well.

It had been three days and yet, there was no word from his half-brother, Francis seemingly lost to the wind without any notice. Sebastian didn't have much choice but to hope that he had found a suitable place to rest and wait for the plague to subside, however long that might take.

They reached the kitchen where they immediately went to a pot of boiling hot water. Hamish grabbed the ladle and beckoned to him, indicating that he should go first. Over a makeshift sink, the guard dripped the hot water from the ladle onto Sebastian's calloused hands.

Bash winced but didn't cry out, having gotten used to the initial sting of the scalding hot liquid. He wiped his wet hands down on the material of his plain breeches and bid the men goodnight, stalking back to his room.

The hallways were empty, the castle serene and quiet. The marbled floor didn't muffle his footsteps but Bash had no doubt that no one would hear. After all, it was just past morning.

His eyes roamed around, towards the shadows, a habit he had assumed ever since the Darkness forced its reign of terror on the little village in which he had fled to escape French court.

A girl, from long ago with fiery red hair and a commendable bravery told him that the things they didn't want to see was almost always hidden in the shadows, far away from prying eyes.

And he believed her. He believed her every word.

Sebastian pushed open the door of his quarters, careful not to let the wood hit the back of the wall (he really needed to get those damn hinges fixed) and sneaked in, closing the door silently behind his turned back.

Kenna was still fast asleep, having no notion of her husband's escapades, her long brown hair fanned out on his pillows. He quirked a tender smile in her direction, admiring the view for a moment.

Long, brown lashes caressed her cheek bones, the cheek bones that he loved stroking because they contrasted vividly with her soft and delicate features. Her shapely lips were parted, showing a glimpse of her perfect, white teeth.

Slim fingers wrapped around his blanket, pressing them to her cheek and it caused a wave of warmth to crest in his chest. His beautiful wife had probably snuggled into his blanket, seeking his warmth as she habitually did once in the arms of sleep.

He removed his sweat stained shirt and dirty breeches, tossing them discreetly into the laundry basket as he pulled on his sleep clothes, forgoing his shirt as the room was balmy from the smoldering fire in the hearth.

Bash slid in next to her and Kenna murmured in her sleep before cracking one eye open. He froze, staring back at her before her eyelids fluttered shut again, twitching in her slumber. He heaved a silent sigh of relief as he rested his head on the pillows, sleep finding him easily now that he was here beside her.

~~O~~O~~

Kenna awoke with a groan, hand clutching her stomach. She looked to her side to find her husband fast asleep, his dark hair mused, mouth parted and emitting quiet snores. Normally she would lay back down next to him, trying to find sleep again but something was off.

_She_ felt off.

Staggering out of bed, she barely made it to the chamber pot before the taste of bile hit the back of her throat, bringing out yesterday's dinner along with her silent heaves. She felt her stomach twitch and a fresh wave of sick hit the bottom of the pot.

With runny eyes, she reached for the jug of water, attempting to wash of the puke from her mouth and banishing the suspicious residue from the chamber pot. She decided she had no choice but to deposit it in the lavatory and pray that Bash wouldn't suspect a thing.

Kenna looked up to find him still fast asleep, barely even rustling at her sudden sickness. She was partly grateful and annoyed at the same time, reaching to slip on her robe as she picked up the chamber pot delicately by its handles.

Feet pattered against the floor as she silently made her way to the lavatory, placing the used pot down and picking up another one. Her mind whirled and her heart thudded unevenly.

The previous lady-in-waiting tried to recall anything she had eaten yesterday that would've caused her an upset stomach but nothing came to mind. If she remembered correctly, she had even enjoyed her dinner, commenting on the lovely brie and crisp baked bread.

Her face blanched as her thoughts settled on one possibility. One very, dangerous possibility.

It couldn't be. She calculated the time of her last menstruation cycle, noting with dismay that she was now three weeks late.

No, she wasn't. She just could not be.

Quickening her steps, she reached the safety of their room and closed the door, leaning her head against the wood. If she truly was expecting, now wasn't exactly the greatest of times.

Brown tresses covered her face as she set the pot down by the fireplace, the thoughts churning in her mind. She glanced at Sebastian, who hadn't even moved in her absence, with a sort of detached anguish.

Kenna knew that Bash didn't want kids, not now. Not when the Black Death was making its way around, stealing lives and tearing families apart.

Especially not now when the plague was at its peak.

Hands flew to her mouth and she tried to stifle the gasp that would escape, her body trembling.

Please God, she prayed fervently. Kenna had never wished for such a thing before, for the death and possible eviction of newborn life. A newborn life that may be growing in her.

Please, she implored. Not now.

Not when the baby has no chance of survival.

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><p><strong>AN: The reveal of her pregnancy wasn't really climatic but then again, Kenna does have experience in this department (from Henry, who else?) and would know if she was expecting or not. Just trying to stick the character's originality, people. **

**Review, please?**


	2. Infected

**Second chapter here! Thank you guys so much for all your wonderful reviews, favorites and follows! You have no idea how happy I was to see them :) **

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><p>"Did you hear?" Kenna asked him one afternoon, eyes plastered to the novel in her hand. Bash looked up from polishing his sword, gaze curious.<p>

"Hear about what?"

"Francis may be coming back in another week," she said, glancing up to look at him.

Bash's eyes widened. "When did you hear that news?"

"This afternoon," she replied. "From Catherine."

Brows furrowed and he gave her an apprehensive look. "Why does Catherine know and Mary not?"

"Because he's her son, and I think that Francis is still mad at her," Kenna remarked, marking her novel and setting it down on the chaise lounge.

She fixed her husband with a quizzical look, one that was calculating as it was contemplating.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, noticing the questions swirling in her brown eyes.

She shrugged her delicate shoulders, twisting a strand of brown hair between her fingers. "It's just...I feel bad that Francis had to find out that way."

Kenna had previously never expressed any sentiment regarding to his half-brother, her only emotions for him ranging from quiet disbelief to nonchalant neutrality. It made him surprise, if he were honest, to see her feeling sorry for him.

"What Lola did wasn't right, Francis deserved to know that she was carrying his child," Bash argued, always coming up to Francis' defense.

"I said I felt bad, not that whatever Lola did was in the right or wrong," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "She was planning to leave, court, you know. Get out and live a quiet life with Julian and never let the babe find out their true heritage."

Bash gave a short bark of laughter, shaking his head. "Good luck with that. I've tried and trust me, politics just can't seem to leave the uninterested alone."

Kenna sat up straighter, intrigued by her husband's mention of his brief absence from court. "You never did tell me what happened during those months."

The young man shrugged, resuming the steady motion of running a cloth over the already shining metal. "There wasn't anything to tell you about that didn't make me want to forget about it."

His green eyes were hard, concentrating on the light that refracted from his sword, the sword which should have been able to save his friends from the Darkness; protect them from the derange needs of their own belief which he too had grown up learning due to his mother's original religion.

Even to this day, the memories of Rowan's screams, her mangled body and the ever present trail of blood made him shudder. He hated it; hated it when he couldn't save the people that he cared about.

But mostly, he hated himself for not saving an innocent young girl.

"Hey." Soft hands stopped his ministrations and he looked up to find Kenna gauging his reaction with concerned brown eyes. She had seated herself next to him, her touch turning into a hold which encompassed his in their loving warmth.

"Whatever that happened in those woods, it's over now," she said, voice unwavering with hopeful confidence. "The Darkness is gone, Paschal is with another family and we are safe here."

He quirked a half-smile at her, squeezing her hand. Ever so optimistic, his lovely wife was. Alas, if he were to tell her exactly what he had encountered in that abandoned village, he wasn't so sure she would be.

Crude drawings and depictions of death and horror, drawn and embedded in earthen walls swam behind his mind. Bash wondered if not a single day would go by when he would stop recounting the look on that mad man's face, the way how his sharpened teeth drew into a sneer as he uttered the words: _The Gods must always be pleased, a new Darkness must be chosen._

That was before his axe had ended the man's life.

And that was what the Darkness actually was: a man who did nothing but instill terror and fear in the hearts of the villagers. He should be stopped. No, Sebastian amended. He must be stopped from choosing another successor. This reign of terror would not end until the belief of blood sacrifices to appease a god's wrath have ended.

"You're right," he said quietly, smiling at Kenna. "Although I still miss Paschal, successor of Darkness and what-not," he joked.

She rolled her eyes but grinned. "As I do too."

A strange look overcame her features then. Bash saw that her brown eyes had assumed a faraway look, as if she was recounting something in her mind.

"Hey," he said, frowning. "Are you alright?"

His voice shook her out of her reverie and she nodded, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry, I just got worried wondering if Paschal would be comfortable in his new home."

Bash returned her smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He wouldn't admit it, but Kenna would make a terrific mother if they ever decided to have children. Which he hoped would probably not be that soon.

"What are you smiling at?" she teased.

"Nothing," he reiterated. "Just that you would be an amazing mother when the time came."

She giggled and smacked his arm gently but another thought flashed behind her steady gaze. "Alright, mister, no funny thoughts."

He held up a hand to his heart, setting his mouth in a solemn line but his green eyes were twinkling with mirth. "I swear, on the soul of my favorite stead that I meant milady no hoax."

Kenna rolled her eyes again, hiding her smile. "Come on then, I'm starving and breakfast is nearly over."

Bash nodded, placing his sword to one side and stood up. As he did, the strangest sensation overwhelmed him. It felt as if the world were tilting on its axis, pushing him sideways. Bash threw out an arm, grabbing hold of the lounge's headboard as he scrunched his eyes tight, trying to dispel the dizziness.

"Bash!"

Kenna's voice sounded as if she were calling from underwater, like a mermaid had stolen her vocal box and locked it up under the watery depths. The room heaved again and he tightened his grip, desperate to stay on his feet.

"Sebastian! What's happening? Guards, call the castle physician!"

As soon as the dizzy spell appeared, it dissipated, leaving him nauseous in its wake.

The door burst open and Bash opened his eyes in time to see two guards storming in, swords out. When they saw there was no threat, they glanced at Kenna in confusion.

"Milady?" one of them asked.

"It's Sebastian, he-"

The dizzying spell came back again, this time much more stronger than the previous one. Sebastian tilted, nearly falling if it hadn't been for Kenna's grip on his shoulder, holding him up. He opened his mouth, to tell her that he was fine but all that escaped was a pained groan.

"Take him, please!" she cried. The guards didn't hesitate, grasping him under each arm. Sebastian smelt blood and briefly he wondered who was bleeding when-

"Oh my god," Kenna whimpered.

Something trickled down his nose, to the bow of his lip. Bash numbly swiped his finger, silently stunned to find blood. The guards immediately let him go, each one of them hastily backing away.

"Bash-"

"Stay back," he warned, getting a hold of himself, trying to ground his feet on the floor and ignore the whirling in his head. "I'm surely infected."

Kenna didn't listen (when did she ever listen to him?) and drew him next to her, taking his arm and wrapping it around her shoulders. She paid no heed to the guards as she guided him out of the room, down the hallways.

"Kenna-"

"Hush," she said. "And try to conserve your energy, I'm taking you to Nostradamus."

"I feel fine," he said even if he wobbled slightly. "See?"

His wife didn't say no more as she proceeded, tight lipped to the seer's headquarters. She pushed open the door, not even caring to knock, catching Nostradamus with a vial and a surprised expression on his clean shaven face.

"Milady?" the seer asked.

"It's Bash," Kenna huffed, setting him down on the bed. "He caught a dizzying spell and blood ran down his nose."

Nostradamus immediately set the vial down on a nearby table and rushed to Sebastian's side. His long fingers pinched and prodded the skin, checking his pulse and asking him to open his mouth.

The seer shook his head, mouth set in a tight line. "It would appear that the sickness has not yet cause swelling in your throat but I would advice you to stay here until I can determine for sure that you are well," he said, in a deep and somber voice.

"I told you," Bash argued, "I feel fine, it's nothing, I-"

"Bash." Kenna's voice cut through his worked up rant that she knew he would deliver to the physician. He turned to her, frustration written plainly on his features.

"Maybe Nostradamus is right, maybe you would benefit from the rest." She hesitated before leaning in, trying to not be overhead by the other man. "Do it for me," she said quietly. "Please, you can't leave me now."

There was something in her voice, a distress that was so tangible that Bash could do nothing but nod. Kenna bit her lower lip, leaning back. The young lord knew that his wife wasn't good at keeping secrets for he could see that something was truly bothering her. He could see it in the way how she refused to meet his eye, the way how she wrapped one arm around herself, as if it would stop her from falling apart.

She was keeping something from him and Bash earnestly hoped that she would tell him.

But she didn't. Kenna spared him a small smile before asking Nostradamus if he would speak to her outside. She brazenly placed a kiss on his forehead before telling him to rest and he had no choice but to watch as his wife steered the physician outside, the door closing with a reverberating finality, separating him from the other castle inhabitants.

~~O~~O~~

"Lady Kenna, is something bothering you?" Nostradamus inquired, once they were out of Bash's earshot.

"Yes," Kenna replied without hesitation. "I believe I'm pregnant but I'm not so sure."

The seer glanced at her in subdued surprise. "Really? What made you think you are expecting?"

"I'm late," she replied curtly. "And my dresses are starting to not fit anymore. Adding up to that, the morning sickness is worsening – it's practically still happening up till the afternoon."

Nostradamus narrowed his eyes quizzically. "Well, if that's so, then being here will not be good for you or your baby."

"I know," Kenna replied simply. And she did. She knew what the repercussions were for having a baby during this time. The young woman was well aware that her child would probably even not survive the first few hours.

"Could you do me a favor?"

The physician nodded.

"Please don't tell Bash about this," she said, brown eyes wide with apprehension. "I don't think I could handle it if the news gives him hope only to have it extinguished because of the plague.

Nostradamus tilted his head to one side, studying her. "And how should I help him convince that nothing is off?"

This was the part of the plan that Kenna hadn't thought over. How was she going to hide the fact from Bash and still maintain his trust?

After how he had reacted to Lola keeping the identity of her child from Francis, she wasn't so sure that he would want a repeat of that. He wouldn't want her, his own wife, to do that to him.

Nostradamus must have seen the despair on her features for he cleared his throat, giving her a kind smile. "I may know of one part of the castle that could keep you...from harm's way." _That could keep you safe from_ _the plague._ He didn't say that but she was pretty sure that was what he meant.

She nodded earnestly. "Alright, I'll come along with you."

"What would you like me to say to Bash if he should inquire about you?" he asked, hands folded behind his back.

Kenna hesitated. "I...I don't know. I don't want him to worry but at the same time I wouldn't want him to find out."

"What if I tell him that I didn't allow you to visit because you contracted the smallpox before and you're much more suspectible to the Black Death?"

She didn't know if Nostradamus was medically correct since she had never gotten smallpox but right now she was desperate. Kenna would do anything to keep herself and her baby safe.

Even if it meant staying away from her husband.

~~O~~O~~

Days had past by with nothing for him to do but stare at the walls and read a bible that Nostradamus had left for him ("I was out of adventure novels since it got burned years ago so this is all I have," the seer said, smiling softly.) He had only managed a few pages before his eyes started to droop and he did the one thing which he had doing pretty oft now that he was under quarantine.

Bash slept. Sometimes it would be in fits, others it would be as if he were entering into the land of Nod, unconscious for most of the day.

Nostradamus had told him that was one of the side effects to the medicine had he had prescribed.

Sebastian just thought that the seer wanted to keep him drugged and dozy.

Nostradamus would appear everyday with the sunrise to administer the herbs and medication to him, bringing him food sporadically throughout the day but he never saw the older man for more than three times.

He had once asked the castle physician if he was the only patient to be in quarantine and he just gave a shake of his head, saying that he wasn't the only one but he wanted to keep the patients as far separated as possible.

It wasn't as if Bash was sick, he was sure of that. Nostradamus had claimed that he wanted to keep him here, to observe him and see if any more symptoms appear.

Something had piqued his instinct and it told him that the seer was not telling him the truth.

From time to time he would notice a look of consternation on the physician's face, as if he were faced with a tough choice and had no idea how to remedy it. Seeing as Nostradamus was the only person in the castle that had knowledge of medicine and seemed immune to the plague, Bash wasn't surprise if the older man was up on his feet till night fell, trying to save more people from dying.

Once, during Nostradamus' busy days, he asked if he would be allowed to visit Kenna. The seer's face had changed, settling into one of panic before composing himself with a smile.

"Until you're better."

That never happened.

Coupled with his wife's absence, Nostradamus' silence and the queer feeling in his gut that something was wrong, it did nothing but to make him worry more.

That was why the young lord had devised a plan.

A plan to see what exactly the seer was hiding from him.

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><p><strong>AN: Anyone else think that Bash would get himself into a sticky predicament?**

**Review, please?**


	3. Confrontations and Reassurances

**Okay, I know that season 2 just premiered and that this story may not follow the sequence of events but I just wanted to focus on Bash and Kenna first (you can say that I didn't want to write about anyone else except them) so, for anyone that's still curious - this is now officially an AU. **

**To those who reviewed - thank you! To those who favorited and followed - thank you too! **

**And thus concludes my too long one-shot that I decided to split into three parts. I hope you guys enjoy this and leave a review to let me know what you think! **

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><p>Nostradamus heaved a tired sigh as he stalked out of his quarters, medicine in hand. Twenty people relying on him to get better, one the King's half brother and the other the Queen's good friend. He could feel the fatigue seep into his bones and vaguely wondered how long had it been since he had a decent amount of sleep.<p>

One week.

It definitely had to be one week.

Even if he knew termination wasn't the best idea and it went against his moral principles, he had no choice but to suggest that to the Lady Kenna. Her morning sickness often left her pale, distraught and uncomfortable as she pleaded with him for some herbs.

He had told her that there was none that he could spare and the quiet understanding coupled with the anguish in her eyes made his heart constrict. Nostradamus didn't mean to drag her pain but there were other people in need of the nauseous medication and all of them facing the possibility of worsening.

The seer admired her, felt touched that she would understand where he was coming from and forgave him for not being able to treat her.

Which is why he felt absolutely wretched now for breaking this to her.

"Lady Kenna," he said, knocking on the wooden door. Nostradamus had whisked the Mistress of Horse and Hunt away to an abandoned room near the towers after she had confessed to him, where she and her baby would be safe from the raging sickness all around them.

He had told her that this was the best that he could do, and she didn't complain.

Kenna even thanked him, despite the chill surrounding the tower and the barely furnished room.

"I am so sorry for any discomfort but this place hasn't been used in awhile," he had apologized, watching as the lithe brunette made her way around the room, settling herself on the edge of a straw bed, hands wrapped around her slim waist.

"Don't worry about me," she had declared. "It's perfect for me now."

The physician would visit her often, bringing her food and news of her husband's wellbeing. Kenna had been pensive whenever any mention of Bash came up and he didn't blame her.

"The door's unlocked," she called, voice muffled through the wood.

He pushed the heavy opening aside, cradling her usual breakfast of bread and apples.

Kenna was seating by the fireplace, arms wrapped around herself, eyes trailed at the smoldering embers.

"Your breakfast," he said, placing it on her rickety bedside table.

"Thank you," she replied in a soft voice, eyes not leaving the hearth.

Nostradamus removed a bag of herbs from his robe and placed it next to the plate, clearing his throat to catch her attention.

"Milady, I have something I would like to discuss with you."

She looked up at him, her gaze despondent, fiery brown eyes subdued. "Yes?"

"I know you are grieving for not meeting your husband and telling him the news and...I think that maybe it's best if you...got rid of your child."

Kenna's head whipped up so fast he was worried she had sprained it, but the look of horror on his face detracted his thoughts.

"What?" she whispered. "You want me to..."

"I don't want that for you," Nostradamus disagreed, heart heavy, "I was just merely suggesting that children can always be bred again and it isn't as if you are barren, Kenna. Now's just not the best of time to be starting a family."

She glanced in disbelief at him, eyes rekindling with the fire of indignation. "In effect, you want me get rid of my child so that it wouldn't bring you any hardships?"

"No," he replied vehemently, shaking his head. "I told you it's for the best, I didn't say that it was the only way."

"But you were suggesting it!" Her voice had risen to a cry, tears brimming and spilling down her face. "You were suggesting that I kill my own, the child that's mine and Bash's because it poses an inconvenience to you!" she hissed.

He didn't even try to deny her accusations.

All he did was blow air out of his cheeks, gesturing to the bag.

"If you ever change your mind, just swallow the herbs with a cup of water, the cramps will start in a few hours." He left her, abandoning the confused girl behind and not for the first time, Nostradamus wished that circumstances wouldn't force him to be so callous to another person's suffering.

On one hand, he didn't want to force her to do something that she would regret but on the other, he just couldn't see her so miserable anymore. It was obvious that Kenna missed her husband, missed her friends and being quarantined and hidden somewhere from everyone did not suit the impulsive young woman with a personality akin to a firecracker.

And unfortunately, all of this could be solved by an abortion, something that even made him shudder.

But he had no choice. Nostradamus always didn't have a choice.

~~O~~O~~

Bash kept his eyes on the passage of Luke although his attention was drawn to the window in his peripheral vision. It was almost sun down and Nostradamus would be appearing with his medication and food anytime soon.

The blade that he had kept in his right boot felt cool against his skin and for a moment, he wondered if threatening the seer was something that he really wanted to go through with.

Nostradamus always seemed like a parental figure even if he and Bash weren't as close as they were now ten years ago. Despite that, Sebastian still held a high regard for the quiet physician and his secret ways; doing this felt almost like a betrayal to a very good friend. Which, truth be told, it might be.

_But you don't have to hurt him,_ the young lord amended. _You just have to get him to speak._

The door opened, interrupting Bash's thoughts and he set the bible down in time to see the man of his thoughts walk in, meal and medicine in hand.

"Good evening Sebastian, and how are you feeling today?" he asked, setting down the items on a nearby table.

"Good."

Before the seer could blink, Sebastian had lunged towards him, grabbing him in a headlock, knife in hand. Nostradamus didn't even fight back and Bash could feel the seer tense in his hold as the knife's blade settled against the skin of his neck.

"Sebastian-"

"Where's Kenna?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Where is my wife?"

"I don't know-"

"Don't lie," Bash interjected. "Something is not right and it has to do with her so I'll ask again: where is she?"

Nostradamus stopped struggling and Sebastian took it as his cue to let go. The seer stumbled out of his grasp, placing his hand on his throat.

Wide dark brown eyes gazed at the young man in alarm.

"Now, where is she and why hasn't she come even once?" Bash demanded.

Instead of answering, Nostradamus walked to wall, pushing open a paneling with trembling hands. He turned to find a stunned Bash, staring at him, mouth hanging agape.

"Come on," was all the seer simply said, "I'll take you to her." Picking up a nearby lamp, Nostradamus disappeared into the wall, the room giving no indication that he was even here in the first place.

Bash followed him into the darkness, the sounds of trickling water could be heard from all around. He vaguely realized that they were right between the palace walls and that from his stance here, he could practically hear everything going on in the castle if he concentrated hard enough.

"_...told you, it was nothing but mice._"

"_Do you think Audra's hair looks exceptionally bad today?_"

Bash took Nostradamus by his arm, stopping the older man. "What is this place?"

"Tunnels, all joining together," the seer replied, continuing on his way down the darkened corridor with nothing but the lamp light guiding him. "Forming together as a means for your ancestors to walk the place without being seen."

Bash ran his hand over the damp rock, his feet stepping in something viscous and cold that he didn't wish to find out.

"You've never mentioned this."

"It was supposed to be a secret," Nostradamus shared. "A well kept secret that only a few knew of."

He rounded a corner, the light of the lamp fading from the walls and Bash hurried to keep up with him. They walked for a few more minutes, the silence punctuated by the sound of their breathing and the various echoes of dripping water.

The physician stopped abruptly, nearly causing Bash to run into him.

"What-"

"We're here," he simply said as he felt around the rocky wall. Bash saw his finger sink in the rock and with wide eyed amazement, the rock sank down, as if someone had compressed it and pushed it to the ground. Light flooded his senses and the young lord had to blink a view times for his vision to adjust. He squinted and could make an empty hallway, a huge door standing before them.

Nostradamus beckoned him and Bash stepped forward, into the light. The seer tapped on the heavy wood, a soft calling of, "Come in," could be heard.

He pushed open the door and wasting no time, Sebastian bounded into the room, catching sight of his beloved's tear stained face.

"Kenna," he breathed, rushing over to her.

She was gazing at him in incredulous surprise, stumbling back into a wall before his arms could wrap around her.

"Nostradamus," she cried in dismay. "What's he doing here?"

The physician looked from the distraught wife to the confuse husband and rubbed his head, sending her a grimace of apology. "I'm sorry, Lady Kenna, but your husband can be quite persuasive when he wishes to."

"I forced him to tell me of your whereabouts," Bash gritted out, the hurt churning in his heart. She was staring at him as if he were a murderer, coming after her with the intention to hurt. "Because you had so fearfully disappeared into thin air for the past few days and I was worried."

If he wasn't so aggrieved, he would have found that vaguely annoying.

"Please, stay back," she said, starting to cry again. Bash took a step forward but she retreated, moving into a corner, eyes wide as if she were a hunted prey and he was the terrifying hunter.

"Kenna-"

He looked to Nostradamus, to ask what was wrong with his wife when he saw that the physician had vanished, presumably to give them some privacy.

Bash frowned, running a hand through his mused brown hair. "Kenna, why are you so afraid?"

"Because you might not be better," she replied, moving her body so that her front was shielded away from him. Bash knew enough from his wife's body language to know that she didn't want him near her.

"I am," he insisted, taking another step forward.

It was a big mistake. Kenna shrieked and raised her hands, as if to ward him off.

"Please, no more closer," she begged.

He reiterated, stepping back. "Please," he implored, green eyes wide and afraid, "Just tell me what this is all about."

"I'm pregnant," she said, not missing a beat. Her face was flushed, eyes swollen from crying and the fear on her face was so real; he had never seen her look that way, not even when Henry had hounded her during his days of madness.

She was well and genuinely frightened.

"Y-You are?" he asked, the weight in his chest lifting.

Kenna nodded, no longer crying even if stray tears still slipped down her cheek. "Yes, and I can't have you near me because you might infect me."

"But I'm not infected," he persisted stubbornly. "I feel fine."

She looked like she wanted to agree but something stopped her. It was probably the rational part of her.

"I'm so sorry, for keeping this from you," she started, "I hoped that I would have the courage to terminate it but I didn't and-"

"Hang on," Bash said, gaze flaring. "You were going to have an abortion?"

"Yes, because it just wasn't the right time what with the plague and – Bash, just standing together in this room has increased the _likely_ chance that me and the baby are already infected," Kenna said, the stress in her tone evident.

He nodded numbly, taking another step back.

"I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid you would get mad – that you would get mad at me."

"But I'm not," he countered. "In fact, I've never been happier. Kenna, can you imagine it? We're going to have a _child,_" he said, with emphasis to their current situation. "How could I get angry at _that?_"

"You're just saying it because you feel obliged to," she replied, setting her jaw stubbornly. "Because I'm your wife and that's your duty."

"No, it's not that," he argued back, already growing increasingly annoyed at her pessimism. "What would get it into your lovely, thick head that I _am_ happy for us?"

She arched an eyebrow and Bash immediately wished that he could take back what he said. Nobody would ever accuse his wife of being of a coward and once she needed to prove something, it would be hard to shake her out of it.

Kenna picked up a nondescript bag, tossing it to him. He caught it effortlessly, fingers clenching around the woven material as he studied the various dried leaves and flowers in the bag.

"It's some herbs Nostradamus gave me," she said quietly. "He told me that if I should ever choose to throw away my child, those will do."

"Why would he give you this?" Bash asked, feeling the anger crest in his chest. Which type of self-proclaimed healer would treat his patients this way? Give her an ultimatum to destroy the very life growing in her?

"Don't get angry with him," she pleaded. "He didn't have any more nauseous dispelling herbs for me and I was complaining about my morning sickness. I think he must have felt my sadness too as every time he came here, his smile would wilt and he would ask me to cheer up."

"That doesn't mean that he should have treated you that way," he replied in a dark tone.

"Bash, look around you," she said desperately, throwing an arm out to encompass the space around them. "The plague is right in our home, it's in you and you want me to have a child like this?"

Her voice broke and she looked like she was about to cry again but stopped herself with a firm shake of her head. "This is not the environment that I would want our baby to grow up in."

"I can help defeat this," Bash said, trying to reason with her. "I can find the blood pagans and tell them to reverse it, they must know how." He was rambling now. "Maybe they could try to talk some sense into the gods, give them an alternative sacrifice – there must be something that they would accept besides blood and-"

"Bash." Something in her voice stopped him and he looked up in time to see a swift, gentle smile gracing her face. It disappeared as soon as she laid eyes on her relatively flat stomach. "You are but one man in this fight to get rid of a plague that has stolen thousands of lives," Kenna murmured. "Don't you think it is slightly impossible to do that?"

"I would do anything," he said, jaw set in determination. "For you and our child, I would do anything."

"Get better," she said softly. "Take the medication that Nostradamus gave you. Get better for me and our little nugget."

He gave a hollow laugh at her affectionate nickname. "'Little nugget'?"

She quirked a smile. "Because he or she is a lump of the both of us."

Bash gave her a tender smile and despite the careful distance between them, he swore he could pick up her heartbeat from his standing point.

"Alright, I'll get better," he replied. "And you better take care of yourself too."

Kenna broke out into a bright smile and right now, he wanted nothing more than to sweep her in his arms. With her red rimmed eyes, puffy nose and resolved gaze, she looked every inch the soldiering woman that he had grown to love; beautiful in her own endurance.

"Thank you," she said, indulging him with another wide smile.

He turned, to reenter the dark tunnel but remembered the bag in his hand.

"Oh, and Kenna?" Bash said, swiveling back to look at her. Making sure her gaze was fixed on him, Sebastian deliberately tossed the bag into the fireplace, watching as the herbs caught flame and went up in smoke.

"You're wrong," he said, voice raw with emotion. "I do want this...for the both of us."

She gasped at his show of bold disobedience, hands falling limply to her sides.

"And I hope you know that I do love you, with all of my heart."

Kenna recovered, flashing him a bright smile that displayed all her love and affection.

"I love you too," she answered, her fingers reaching for his grandmother's ring on her left hand. She twisted it, feeling the metal ridges sliding under her soft touch, contemplating with an aching apprehension as her husband retreated back into the walls, sparing her one last searing gaze.

Her eyes dropped to the delicate band on her left hand and lips quirked up as they remembered the words that she had used when sharing her epiphany with Bash.

_The queerest feeling ever, as if someone is actually looking out for me._

Her hand fell to her lower belly where she cupped the barely developed bump. "Don't worry," she whispered, although the words were more for herself. "We'll see him again...soon."


End file.
